This takes place after "The End in the Beginning". It's something that popped into my head and begged to be written. It is definitely AU.
I don't own Bones.
He'd been asleep and dreamt a dream like no other. This dream gave him all that he'd ever wanted. He had friends that loved him, an interesting job and the most important thing of all, he had a wife, someone who loved him and cared if he lived or died.
When he'd awakened he'd found himself in a world he wasn't sure he wanted anymore. He had opened his eyes to find himself looking at the one he loved and knew wasn't his. Looking into her face he found himself facing a dilemma. She was his wife in his dream; but, awake he knew her as the anthropologist that helped him get justice for Gemma Arrington. After they had finished that case they had fought and in the end she had told him that she hated him and never wanted to work with him again.
How did his life become so screwed up?
He awoke and seeing her looming over him, he had asked her, "Who are you?"
Stunned, Brennan stared at her partner and best friend and found herself speechless. Trying to overcome the fright his words gave her, she leaned over him and asked, "Booth, don't you know me?"
Sighing, Booth looked at Brennan's panicked face and answered, "Yes, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. You're Dr. Temperance Brennan. You work at the Jeffersonian."
Relieved, Brennan smiled, "Thank goodness. I was afraid that your memory had become faulty. Brain surgery can affect memory sometimes. Some times temporarily and some time permanently."
Puzzled, Booth asked, "Where am I? It looks like I'm in a hospital. Was I shot?"
Frowning, Brennan answered, "You had brain surgery. You had a small tumor and had to have it removed. It wasn't malignant; so, you will make a full recovery."
Frightened, Booth blurted out, "A brain tumor? I had a brain tumor?"
Nodding her head, Brennan tried to reassure Booth, "Yes; but, it wasn't malignant. It was a benign tumor. You are going to be ok, Booth."
A little afraid and yet strangely comforted, Booth stared at Brennan, "I don't understand. Why are you here?"
Shaking her head, Brennan stared at Booth, "I'm not sure what you mean."
Shrugging his shoulders, Booth replied, "I don't understand why you're visiting me in the hospital. The last time we talked you slapped me and called me a bully and you told me that you didn't want to work with me."
Feeling faint, Brennan asked, "Booth, I'm not sure I understand. What was the last case you remember us working on together?"
Puzzled, Booth answered, "We've only ever worked on one case together, Dr. Brennan. You helped me prove that Judge Hasty killed Gemma Arrington. I'd have liked to work with you on more cases; but, you refuse to take my phone calls."
Shaking her head in disbelief, Brennan backed away from the bed. Finally stopping, Brennan found herself near the doorway to the room. Afraid, Brennan leaned down, picked up her purse and lap top and left the room.
Booth watching her reaction to his words, felt confused and afraid. "What the Hell is going on?"
Booth had been alone for about an hour when Cam walked into the room. Relieved, Booth exclaimed, "Cam, thank God. You need to tell me what's going on."
Puzzled, Cam walked across the room, her eyes flicking around the room, "Booth, I thought Dr. Brennan was here. If I'd known she was going to leave, I would have come sooner. How long have you been alone?"
Shaking his head, Booth begged, "Cam you need to tell me why she was here. She wouldn't tell me. She just ran away. She said I had a brain tumor; but, it's not fatal and then I asked her why she was visiting me in the hospital and then she just ran away. What the Hell is going on?"
A little frightened, Cam asked, "Booth, I'm not sure what you're saying. Why wouldn't Dr. Brennan be here? She's your partner and as far as I know, you're best friend. Why wouldn't she be here?"
Swallowing, Booth closed his eyes and clenched his fists, "Cam, I don't know what you're talking about. Dr. Brennan hates me. The last time I talked to her she called me a bully and said she'd never work with me again. She's refused every call I've made to her for the last seven months. I thought she was supposed to be coming back from Guatemala in a couple of days and I'd made arrangements with a buddy of mine in Homeland Security to help me get close enough to her to talk to her about Cleo Eller . . . Wait how come you're here? I thought you were in New York again?"
Swallowing, Cam ran her right hand across her mouth, "Booth there's something wrong with your memory. You worked on the Cleo Eller case about three and half years ago."
Placing his hands across his eyes, Booth whispered, "Oh God."
A little twist in a perfectly good story. What can I say?